Peggy happened to be listening at the door.
“In the first place,” proceeded Daintree, “tell me frankly and finally whether you mean to marry the girl or not. Yes or no?”
“No, sir; it is impossible.”
“You shall do just exactly what you like. At the same time, she tells me you did ask her!”
“I did. I wronged her in doing so, but she had the sense to refuse me, and I’m not going to wrong her worse by asking her again.”
“That settles it. I’ve found a captain who’s willing to smuggle you over to America for a consideration. All details to be arranged before I leave Sydney to-morrow. Will you go?”
“Will I not! Thank God for the chance!”
“Then that settles that—for the present. You shall be spirited aboard to-morrow night, and by Monday morning you shall have seen the last of New South Wales for ever.”
Peggy crept away from the door. Her mind was made up.
“The other thing’s a trifle,” said Daintree. “A pretty place this New South Wales! I go to the bank and cash a cheque, come in and shove the notes into one of these drawers, and a man breaks into the house and all but into my desk while I am sitting in the next room at my dinner! Look at this—” and he pointed out the marks of a jemmy on the polished mahogany. The circumstance did not appear to excite him in the least. He smiled loftily on Tom’s concern, and at once exaggerated an attitude which had been perfectly genuine before.
“Ah, Thomas,” he remarked, “even you don’t know
